A cow’s udder?Posted: February 7, 2013
So today in my creative writing class we did this fun exercise with poetry. I’m not the biggest fan of poetry–I really only took the class so I could write short stories and fiction (ask me how excited I was to find out that this teacher loves poetry and decided to make half the semester about it). Regardless, this exercise was a lot of fun and yielded some interesting result.
The object of the “game” we played is simple. I wrote the first line of a poem and then passed my paper to the person on my right and then they would write the next line. After that, though, they would fold down the paper so only their new line was showing. This process would continue–passing and folding–until the paper reached me again and then I would write the last line. This is what my poem morphed into:
I don’t know right from left anymore,
but I still know where I’m going.
On the road, straight to Seattle,
passing the evergreen trees,
light goes in and out, flashing to the other side
like a spotlight searching for its star.
Pin holes in a jar. Some straw.
Milk leaked out like a cow’s udder.
Nothing could contain it,
not even that superglued mason jar
could contain the firestorm of pain and anger.
It was like a magnificent dragon guarding its jewels
with fires coming out of the deepest and darkest hole.
The flames burn so high they cloud my vision.
Burning, burning, I am ash.
Well… this certainly turned into an interesting poem. It could make sense–at least until you get to the part about the cow’s udder and mason jars and pin holes. I mean, WHAT? Some people have a strange imagination if you ask me. At least at the end it starts to make sense again? Right? Maybe?